


the little shop at the bottom of the hill

by Profundus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Team as Family, This is just tooth-rotting fluff okay come get get y'all juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profundus/pseuds/Profundus
Summary: At last, there will always be the little shop at the bottom of the hill they can call home.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi (implied)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 210





	the little shop at the bottom of the hill

The little shop at the bottom of the hill is never too busy.

At lunchtime, students will file through the door in neat little rows, grasping chocolate bars and soda cans from the shelves, smiling at the thought of too much sugar because no adult is looking and it's exciting to them, partial satisfaction to their rebellious minds.

Funny, how a store can sell freedom in form of candy and energy drinks, but that's just what it is.

The kids know the prices of their favorite snacks by heart, always clutching the money before they even enter, gently placing it on the counter and hopping back out with a cheerful "Thank you!" on their way to enjoy lunch break.

Ukai never once has to look up from his magazine to check if they've paid the right amount.

After the last student has gone back to the streets, he just puts whatever's occupying his hands down for a moment, sweeps the bills and coins into the cash register, and goes back to killing time. Afternoons are slow, with little to no customers popping in and out, and the phone only ever rings when his mother remembers she needs something from the store for dinner.

So, when the annoying tune takes his attention off of a newspaper article not nearly as interesting as he tries to tell himself, he picks the phone up with a sigh, unlit cigarette nudged to the corner of his mouth.

"What is it?"

"Please… please excuse me! Is this Ukai-san?"

Sharp eyes narrow at the back of the posters taped to the glass door. Definitely not his mother. And definitely a man.

"Depends," Ukai says suspiciously, hand hovering over the lighter nearby. He doesn't know the answer to the obvious question on what exactly that depends, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

"My name is Takeda Ittetsu, from Karasuno High School. I'm the club advisor for this year's volleyball club and I—"

He slams the red button and throws the phone back down with more force than needed. It slides right over the edge of the counter and its impact on the floor is accompanied by a cracking noise that makes Ukai wince. Ah, damn. That's Goodbye to a perfectly fine telephone.

The guilt doesn't last long once he finally gets around to lighting his cigarette and taking a sip from the open can of beer he keeps stashed away in a half-opened drawer. Sneakers perched on the counter, Ukai stares at the ceiling and huffs a soft cloud of grey smoke towards it.

_Volleyball._

Disgusting word.

Without bothering to pick up the phone, or better yet: what remains of it, he closes his eyes and dozes off. They've asked so often, he thinks, lips forming a joyless leer. And he's refused so often. They still won't give up, huh. The name's unfamiliar though, so maybe they got a new hire to do the job. Poor guy, gonna blunt his teeth. Like the others.

Ukai flicks the ash off of his cigarette and puts it out to cross both arms behind his head. It's been a pretty long time since he's been up at that school and he wonders if it's still the same. So there's a volleyball club again. Last year, it was pretty disastrous with those kids.

Well, it's none of his concern anyway.

At least not until the sun starts setting and the shop door opens with someone calling out "Pardon my intrusion!" far too cheerful than anyone should be at this time of day, so Ukai looks up to see who the hell could be waltzing into his store with an attitude like that.

It's a man, barely older than him, in the typical outfit one would expect for someone still thinking he can be the teacher who makes a difference to his students. He even has a kind of naïve look about him – big, pretty eyes behind his glasses, hair tousled, bag slung over his shoulder, smiling a tad too enthusiastically for Ukai's liking.

"You're the guy from the phone."

The words are out of his mouths before he can catch them, but the man in the doorway just laughs as he steps inside for real and bows.

"I am. I think something went wrong with the connection before I had the chance to explain the reason of my call. As I said, I'm this year's club advisor for the Karasuno High School volleyball club, and I have a proposition to make."

His smile doesn't even falter in the slightest as he steps over the remnants of the phone, by choice blissfully ignorant. Ukai just groans and reaches for the half-opened drawer by his side.

* * *

The little shop at the bottom of the hill has never seen such a frequent customer.

Of course Ukai tries to push off his shifts onto anyone willing to take them, at least during the rest of the week's school days, but it does little to help. The second he unlocks the shop on Saturday, Takeda appears like the devil summoned by name, smiling and with yet another list of compelling arguments why becoming the volleyball team's coach would be nothing short of a magical experience.

They're starting to become unnerving for real, those over-the-counter discussions that always end up in Ukai aggressively chugging another two cans of beer and going through his cigarettes even faster than usual. At this rate, he's going to be in debt with his own mother.

"You just won't let it go, will you?" he growls through a toothy grin that borders murderousness. "Is it your only free-time activity to fall on my nerves?"

"Not at all!" Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as always, Takeda bounces into the just-opened store once again on the following Monday before school has even started. "I actually enjoy doing a lot of things in my leisure time, but this here falls into my task area and I can't give up just now because you're not fully convinced yet."

This guy is impossible. _Not fully convinced,_ he calls Ukai's firm rejection that he has repeated and reinforced every single time Takeda has stopped by until now.

"Can't you just take a No?" he asks, sounding more desperate than he would like to admit. He just can't anymore, he can't with this man.

To his endless frustration, Takeda shakes his head with a remorseful smile. "Sorry, can't do. The kids are in need of a good coach, and I'm far too unfamiliar with volleyball to teach or explain anything. So, I'd really like you to come see them practice at least once. It would mean a lot to them, and to me as well."

No shit, Ukai has noticed as much. He drops his entire weight against the backrest of the chair and covers his face with both hands for a moment. If he doesn't manage to keep his cool, he'll kick the guy out – in the true sense of the word. One, two, three, four, five—

"They're really good. I think you will agree with me once you got to watch them train. Although they probably need a bit more practice before the organized match with Nekoma."

A small sliver of the white ceiling becomes visible as Ukai moves his fingers apart slightly and strains his eye to peer at Takeda, who's standing on the other side of the counter, grinning like a schoolboy with both hands folded behind his back like he's about to recite a poem.

"Nekoma?"

* * *

The little shop at the bottom of the hill closes frequently during work hours now.

People hoping for a quick snack or drink in the afternoon are turned away by a sign plastered to the door that asks customers to come back later. The young man who's always seen unlocking the door in casual clothes and his store apron in the morning now marches out of the shop around midday, wearing a tracksuit and a much happier expression.

Most days he's even whistling an easy melody as he walks up the street, hands shoved deep into his pockets, headed for the high school on top of the hill just as students begin to crowd the sidewalk on their way home from yet another tiring day.

For a group of people, huddled around the same young man with the spiky blond hair and their teacher, the really exhausting part of the day is only starting. Yet none of them is even sporting the slightest hint of a frown, on the contrary.

This, right here, in the gym hall of their school – that's where they feel at home. All of them.

Even Ukai, after almost a decade of absence, hasn't lost this sense that he belongs here. Maybe it's been different during his high school years. Maybe he'd look at his future self in contempt for standing on the sidelines now, but there's no place where he'd rather be than where he is right now.

Well, maybe there is.

It's his shop, shortly after blackness has started to conquer the sky, with the tired-happy faces of his trainees all around as he hands them their evening snacks _("Free of charge – put the money away, Daichi, I said put it away")_ and sends them home for a good night's rest. Still, Ukai can't help but watch them walk away from the store, now gladly munching on some well-deserved food, and think how much he likes to have them around, the annoying little brats.

His musing doesn't last for long.

When the clock handle reaches seven, someone else enters the store and Ukai sits up a bit straighter in his chair.

"Thought you'd skip tonight," he'll say, like he does every day, and Takeda will laugh as he gathers what he needs and puts it down on the counter.

"I wouldn't skip stopping by even once. Did you see how well they were doing today already?"

"Of course I saw it, I was standing right next to you. Still, I'm a little worried about the upcoming match with Nekoma. We still need to work on a lot of things if we really want to leave that battlefield as victors."

Takeda pushes up his glasses and puts his bag down by his feet. "Well, of course, even I can see that there are essential skills missing for us to defeat another school with a strong team. But don't you think together we might just be able to whip the kids into shape until the big day?"

Those talks continue until well after reasonable closing times, but neither of them is willing to say the first Goodbye, anyway.

* * *

The little shop at the bottom of the hill is the only building in the street that still has its lights on after midnight on Fridays.

There's a second chair put up beside the counter now and Takeda will come in and claim it like it's his rightful place, which nobody can argue with. Customers who come in late will often look at them in confusion, those two young men sitting behind the cash register, talking passionately about a high school volleyball team, but it's not like Takeda and Ukai would mind.

As time goes on, the shop doesn't only close early at noon, but also at night. Like clockwork, as soon as it's seven, a young teacher from the school on the hill will enter the store, prompting the sign from midday to be put up against the glass door again immediately.

Still, there's always light and people going for a walk or headed for their nightshift that happen to look through the windows will see two young men talking, laughing, joking, enjoying each other's company after a day of hard work.

"You know," Takeda says, laughing, as he takes another sip from his tea, "I'm really grateful that you didn't hit me once during all my pestering."

Ukai chuckles. "I was damn near ready to kick you in the ass the ninth time you walked in here and told me the boys need a trainer. Glad I didn't do it, though. You probably would've never come by again."

Those big, pretty eyes gleam up at him from behind their glasses, but Takeda doesn't say anything for a while, just looks at him and eventually at the two cups sitting between them. His fingers are tracing the handle of his one, slowly.

"Would that've been so bad?"

"It would've been terrible. I'd regret it still in twenty years, not having met you and our boys," Ukai says softly, hesitantly. His hand is shaking. He hates it. Hates that he suddenly feels so insecure, that only _now_ his doubts about this are flaring up.

He's been chewing on this for days, weeks, months, during slow moments here at work or during motivational speeches or timeouts or during the entire time he spends with Takeda on the side of the court, watching those boys turn from an uncoordinated heap of disconnected talents to a force of powerful, linked geniuses who can take on the world together.

A nest full of plucked, injured, starving crows, used to always be fighting for oneself alone, flocking together for the first time and taking back their reign.

Across from him, Takeda refuses to look him in the eye, too focused on nothing in particular to even answer Ukai's gaze. In the middle of this, somehow their hands meet, and the air feels like it's clawing its way out of their lungs by force.

"I guess. It would've been such a shame. We would have never made it to where we are now, really feeling confident about taking on schools like Date Tech, Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa. But we do now, we are sure of ourselves, and that's so much thanks to you. And I— I feel like, I would really be missing you if we hadn't met."

_I don't feel like it, I know it. I would be missing you. And… and our boys._

* * *

The little shop at the bottom of the hill is always inviting to its little guests.

There's days where the boys only stop by for a breakfast snack before school because they've overslept and haven't found the time to eat something proper in the morning, and those are the days they come in beaming and smiling and wishing a Good Morning and chattering about their classes and schoolwork and the club, naturally, and Ukai will hand them their food and pat their backs and rub their arms and tell them to do well and that he'll see them later.

And at the end of long days, there will always be a place for everyone to sit in the backroom, there will always be tea for everybody and there will always be enough cookies. There will be idle talk and unfunny jokes everybody laughs at and silly questions and friendly bickering and there will always be someone to listen to everything the boys have to say.

But then, there's days when they show up in the morning without saying a word, blank faces, blank eyes, tired, so tired, too tired to even make it up the hill, bags hanging low on their shoulders, heavy like they're carrying the weight of the world between their school books and notes, and Ukai will not ask, will just hold the door to the backroom open and usher them inside. He calls Takeda on those days, telling him who's not coming to school, or at least coming in late, before he closes the shop and heads into the back as well.

The shelves there are stacked with cups and in the corner waits a small kettle for teatime and there's always a bowl of cookies sitting on the table. It sometimes takes them a few minutes to talk, sometimes a few hours, sometimes they won't talk at all, silenced by the murderous grip stress and pressure has on their throats.

Ukai just keeps them company, or if they want, goes to work the store until they come to him out of own accord once they're ready to speak.

Sometimes, they cry, too many tears on too young faces as they sob into the food he hands them at lunch break, shaking like dry leaves trying to brave a storm brewing on the horizon. Sometimes, they even push their way into his arms where he holds them and strokes their hair until their tears have dried up.

He'll walk them to school if they feel better after getting everything off their chest, or he'll walk them home, or he'll let them stay as long as they want to.

No matter, they always join him once he leaves for club practice where nobody will look at them weird because they all have bad days, and everyone deserves their break in the little shop at the bottom of the hill where the world doesn't look as big and dark and intimidating.

Today, apparently, it is a day like that.

"Ah, jeez" Ukai mutters as he opens the door. He's barely gotten around to the store himself when there's already a hunched-over silhouette standing before the window, looking frail and lost in the pouring rain. "Come in, come in. You're soaking. Did you forget your umbrella at home?"

Nishinoya looks even smaller with his spiked hair hanging wet and dripping in his face as he lunges forward and starts sobbing into Ukai's shirt, shivering like it's not rain but snow falling outside and he's inconsolable, not listening to a word, so Ukai escorts him into the back and stuffs his mouth and hands with cookies until he stops crying and instead just sits there, tears in his eyes, wiping at his face with damp sleeves.

"They're going to make me quit volleyball if I don't get a good grade on the test today," he finally whispers in a faltering voice that threatens to break into violent sobs again. "And I studied all night, I swear, I've been studying for weeks but I just can't _remember_ but they won't believe me, all they say is that I'm lazy and that volleyball is distracting and, and, and—"

He bites into another cookie to stifle the hiccoughs that keep shaking his shoulders.

Ukai looks at him with a slight scowl. "They you're just not going to school today," he decides after a moment of thinking. "I'm telling Tetsu not to wait for you. And we'll start studying together. I wasn't the best student either, but I didn't fail any subject in high school. Let's see if we can get you to stay on our membership list. When's your next chance to repeat the test?"

Only sniffling now, already a bit more hopeful, Nishinoya looks up.

"Wed— Wednesday. I, I think."

"We can't lose our libero to a bad grade in literature," Ukai says and slams his hands on the table and flicks another cookie in Nishinoya's direction. "Let me go close the door while you spike your hair back up. Let's show them sharp points."

He isn't a teacher and he isn't a father, but he cares, and Nishinoya aces his test.

* * *

The little shop at the bottom of the hill has stocked up on energy bars and first aid stuff since school and club activities have start, as every year.

Which wouldn't be all too bad, but the velocity at which the volleyball team is going through those things sometimes frightens Ukai no less than Takeda. They've come to stuff their pockets with band-aids, cool packs and snacks for every practice and by the end of the day, there's never much left.

It's really surprising that nobody has yet suspected someone is abusing all those kids, judging from how battered and beaten they sometimes look after club activities, especially Nishinoya, Daichi and Tsukki. Cheeks, forehead, chin, arms, elbows, hands, chest, stomach, legs, knees, back – name a body part, they have bruises on it.

Receiving a powerful serve or spike properly is a big problem at Karasuno, one Ukai can't easily fix.

He hasn't expected it to go this far though when Kageyama makes the service toss and moves to jump, hits the ball across the net and full on into Daichi's face. He doesn't even give the captain a chance to step aside or at least raise an arm to lessen the damage. The serve has so much force that it even recoils and hits Yamaguchi straight in the head from behind.

"Daichi! Yamaguchi!"

Screaming, Ukai and Takeda rush onto the court, but Tsukki and Suga are already hovering over Yamaguchi, who's holding his nape and whining a little, but he seems fine overall. Asahi, Tanaka and Noya are instead all bolting for Kageyama to reprimand him for the bad aim. Daichi though has been knocked down with force and only starts sitting up with a groan when the adults lightly nudge his shoulder.

"Hey there, big guy," Ukai says softly and steadies him with one hand. "Are you alright?"

There doesn't seem to be any blood, but an already darkening bruise is forming on the side of his face. Maybe he's been able to turn his head, a little at least, to save his nose from breaking. He moves his jaw cautiously, poor guy has probably taken a really bad blow to it, and the first thing he says, even while looking around deliriously, is "Yamaguchi, is he… is he good?"

Takeda almost laughs, but he knows this shouldn't be Daichi's reaction. "He's fine," he says anyway. "You're the one we're worried about. You just got a ball to the head that could've snapped your neck."

Daichi reaches up to touch his jaw and flinches slightly, fingertips trembling. Ukai pushes his hand back down.

"Be careful, you could make it worse."

"I'm fine, I'm okay," Daichi mutters weakly. "Is he really alright? Go… go check on him, please, I'm fine, Dad, I'm—"

He cuts off abruptly, dizzy from the realization about what he's just said and from the pain and the shock. Suga gives him a worried look from across the court, cool pack in hand and pressed to the first-year's head, but Yamaguchi doesn't look so bad, only a bit flushed as Tsukki lightly holds his chin and turns it left and right to see if his neck has suffered any damage.

"It's sweet of you to worry, but you don't have to. You don't always have to care for everyone on the team and neglect yourself," Takeda says in a gentle voice and holds onto Daichi's arm, trying to ignore that Ukai is on the verge of tears next to him. "Now you stay sitting here until you feel like you can try and get up, and everyone else is going to practice some receives over there. This time without neck-snapping serves, please."

Kageyama goes beet red, but Hinata pulls him along.

Until the end of practice, Ukai refuses to let Daichi get back in the game, even though he insists he's good to go again. He and Takeda keep sitting by his side, changing the cool packs he holds to his jaw to keep the swelling at bay and steadying him when he starts to get dizzy again.

After club activities that day, when everyone is already headed home, food in hand and happily chowing down, Ukai isn't surprised that Daichi stays late.

They sit in the backroom, all three of them, and it takes only a short while until Daichi is already overflowing with answers to the silent question Takeda has been asking all day now.

"I have four younger siblings. I'm so used to putting myself last when they're in trouble or needing help or just want attention. My parents are always busy with one of them. I'm the oldest, I can take care of myself, that's what they think. I try to act like I don't mind when I'm talking to them and one of my siblings comes up because they want or need something and I get interrupted so my mother or father can take care of them, but it sucks. It sucks so much, and I hate it, but I feel stupid for admitting I'm envious of my little siblings. They're still kids, they need our parents more than me, so I don't have any right to monopolize them, so I try to look after my siblings too as best as I can and I guess… all the guys from our team, they're, they're family to me, too, so I try and take care of them as well."

He's nearly out of breath from talking so fast, as if he has to get it out at once or he'll be to afraid to say it any longer, his cheeks are glowing with embarrassment.

"Sorry that I called you Dad today, Coach. It really just slipped. Because you always care for me too, not just for the others, I think."

He doesn't even raise his gaze from the floor, at least not until Ukai moves to sit next to him and puts one arm around his shoulders.

"What would you like to talk about?" Takeda asks softly from the other side of the table. "No siblings here to interrupt."

For a moment, Daichi looks at him in surprise, then he blushes even harder and mutters something under his breath.

"What?" Ukai asks, smile forming on his face because he _thinks_ he knows what that was supposed to be.

"Suga," Daichi mumbles again, a bit clearer this time. "He's… he's all I really care about after volleyball. It's not like my parents would flip if I told them, but I don't want to come home and start telling them about my boyfriend either."

Takeda is smiling too now. They give the kid a chance to talk about anything he likes, and he chooses his boyfriend. At least Suga is in very good hands, then.

"Alright," he says cheerfully, "tell us about Suga."

Daichi's entire face lights up.

* * *

The little shop at the bottom of the hill isn't so much as a shop anymore than a home to the members of Karasuno High Volleyball Club.

That's why the graduation party, even though filled with tearful yet laughing faces, is held in the tiny back office with nothing more than the members of the volleyball team, some cake, and, just this once for the sake of celebration, a bottle of champagne.

The third-years keep glancing at their diplomas they've left by the door – their ticket into university, but also the Goodbye letter to their high school volleyball team.

"We'll see each other again, right?" Hinata asks, crying as he lets go of Kageyama to clings to Suga's sleeve instead, staring up at him with huge eyes. "You'll come see us at our games, promised?"

"Promised. At every chance, we'll be here to cheer you on," Suga says, but his voice is thick with barely choked back tears too. "Keep on working hard and be nice to the next first-years, alright? We're counting on you all!"

Kageyama coils his arms around Hinata's waist to hide his tears in a tuft of bright orange hair, but he nods, too.

They leave way after midnight, all of them, waving and cheering to Ukai and Takeda who remain standing in the doorway, calling after them to take care and be safe on their way home. It's not the last time they'll be seeing each other, meeting in the backroom of the little store, but somehow, it feels like it'll take centuries to get there.

The little shop at the bottom of the hill will always be home to those kids, a home they can return to anytime they like. A home where they will always find two people who can't wait to see them.

And it's right there in the little shop at the bottom of the hill where Olympic stars and international volleyball heroes stop by every once in a while, some in groups, some hand in hand, some alone. They just have to walk through the door to be greeted by an entire wall plastered with articles about them, pictures from their high school years, pictures from national and international matches, pictures from the Olympics, pictures from their weddings.

What nobody knows is that in the little shop at the bottom of the hill, in the back office, there is a table always waiting with a bowl of cookies on top, and shelves stacked with cups and plates and trophies and medals, and two people smiling a warm Welcome Home.

**Author's Note:**

> I have. Had the idea yesterday night. Wrote it today. It's bad and I'm not even sorry lmao but still, whoever's bothering to read this: thanks a bunch! Fluff actually isn't so bad for once.


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